Beyond Evil
by Hana Rui
Summary: Jacques, like most others, has more than once thought the guy is better off dead, but after seeing for himself how the deranged killer has met his end, how come he hardly feel fulfilled? Written for the "Innocent Bystander Challenge" back in 2006


**Fandom: **Boys Next Door

**Summary:** Jacques, like most others, has more than once thought the guy is better off dead, but after seeing for himself how the deranged killer has met his end, how come he hardly feel fulfilled?

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**Title: **Beyond Evil

**Author: **Hana Rui

**Genre: **angst, shounen-ai

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It was a love story, first and foremost. This was what he had found out after tirelessly delving into the case like a hungered beast upon the most elusive prey. The daily updates on the papers were not enough to get by. The television reports that were often exaggerating and repetitive did not give him much of what he wanted, either.

So he went out of his way to find out the truth for himself. He felt that he should, for the curiosity may never let him rest. It took a while, an ample amount of effort pass the casual nosiness, until he felt he had acquired enough lore to finally put the broken pieces together.

For most, it may seem a mere waste of time. For him, it served as a kind of enlightenment. A purpose to keep him moving, diverting his attention from the devastating truth that lay upon the surface as he and many others had seen it when the news first broke out.

He did not really care much for it. And would never have thought of ever concerning himself with it, if not for Adrian Clay's rather abrupt death two years after his arrest.

It was he, Jacques, who saw it first, after all. The man plummeting from the sky like an angel robbed of its wings, flailing like a deadweight thrown off board the ship of life. The gasping meddlers began milling in only after the body had hit the ground. He had wanted to scream right then and there, but only managed to gag and wilt to his knees like he, too, had lost his breath.

The sight was just horrible. It was the kind of gore bound to give him nightmares for the rest of his days. It did, though not eternally. But for the next couple of weeks, he had been inconsolable. Hardly able to get out of his bed, of his house. He couldn't even manage to drag his enfeebled body to his desk and get something done to distract himself.

He felt he was falling gradually into the pits of his own filthy issues, drowning in the puddle of his own curdled fears. And all those while, vividly etched in his memory, were those eyes, staring right back at him as though summoning him to the same freedom that the departed man had put upon himself.

Oh yes, the man had stared at him from the pavement marred with the darkest blood, as though inviting him to take a dip. And pray tell him, who hadn't ever thought of experiencing such a release from the dogged restrictions of reality?

Those eyes, they had burned on him, persistently summoning him to just let go.

Admittedly, he had come close. So close to giving up on what little hope for life he had left. There was just something about that man that took him off guard more than the blood and the mangled bones. It was how his face had looked serene in death, how his eyes, though blank and lifeless, seemed to glow with that eternal smile of contentment. Like this was what he had wanted to do all along.

Jacques closed his eyes tight in an effort to clear his thoughts, then after taking the deepest, calming breath, poised his hands on the keyboard and psyched himself up to begin working on his latest article.

It had taken him weeks to pull himself back together after that incident, a couple of days to decide on his next step, and over three months to gather as much information on the _Blind Man Case_ as he needed to clear the blurry edges of the picture—more for himself than for the public.

Yes, he had taken much interest on Adrian Clay after seeing his most tragic death. There was suddenly this urge of knowing as much as he could about the man who had killed innocent boys in cold blood, and yet, felt so much passion for an exceptional breath which he, too, had chosen to end afterwards.

And Jacques couldn't keep himself from wondering what had driven this same man, two years later, to kill himself and still manage to keep such a tranquil look upon his lifeless face.

Jacques wanted to know the truth past the one he had seen for himself. The untold side of the story. He felt he would never be fulfilled until he had unraveled the mysteries behind this most unlikely affair that ended in the gravest of tragedies.

Then again, could it really be called a tragedy? Then why were the madman's eyes smiling on that fateful day of his demise?

Was there really as much fulfillment in death as he had seen in Adrian Clay?

Was it really possible that a seemingly merciless killer could actually be tamed by the love of a mere fourteen-year-old prostitute?

"It was…" Jacques muttered as he began tapping on the letters. "…a love story…"

And indeed, it was. He may never have believed it before, but after uncovering the many un-tackled truths that led to such a tragic end, he had easily come to believe that which he used to regard with contempt.

Love really did conquer all.

Adrian Clay, and even Lawrence Hill.

But because it was the sight of so much gore and the thought of such a heartless deed that burned the memory of the event into people's minds, it was quite easy to disregard one important fact.

The fact that beyond the evil, bloodstained surface was a singular love story.

First and foremost.

**-end-**

**Note: **_Written for **The Fanfiction Archives** Innocent Bystander Challenge livejournal_

_Thanks for reading! :)_


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